


As You Are Mine

by ArielSakura



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Department of Mysteries, Final Battle, M/M, No Horcruxes, Prophecy, Soulmates, True Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 17:35:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13745928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArielSakura/pseuds/ArielSakura
Summary: What if Fenrir Greyback showed up at the Department of Mysteries? What if he and Harry were soulmates? What if the power 'he knows not' wasn't love?





	As You Are Mine

**Author's Note:**

> This just came to me and begged to be written, I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Beta'd by the amazing: [ SlashAddict4Life ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlashAddict4Life)

They were going to be outnumbered. Harry had witnessed one of the Death Eaters shooting off a messenger Patronus to Fenrir Greyback, asking for him to come assist them. Ducking behind a ruined stone pillar. he tried to catch his breath. All around him the battle raged, Order members and Death Eaters alike shouting curses. Trading them back and forth like Dudley traded Pokemon cards. Harry was tired of it all. So tired. He wished there was a way to stop this fighting, wished for it all to be over, for nothing more than to just be Harry. Someone who didn’t have to fight, or be strong. Wiping sweat from his brow he peeked around the pillar, he watched Sirius duel a masked and robed man, the ex-convict laughing as he twirled away from spells. Harry pulled his head in quickly as a spell came towards him. He tried to look for his friends, wanting to see if everyone was okay. He spotted Ron and Hermione duelling together, Ron had seemingly overcome whatever the sentient, floating brains had done to him, as a grim determination now filled his face. Hermione’s eyes were blazing as she grew more and more inventive with her spell work. 

Harry found Remus next, a ferocious look on the normally calm Professor as he battled with Kingsley Shacklebolt against three Death Eaters. They were holding their own for the time being, neither side having much of an advantage. But just then the door to the Arch room flew open and in stepped the leader of the werewolves. 

Harry’s breath caught in his throat as he laid eyes on the man he had only ever heard spoken about in whispers. His build was impressively large, shoulders so broad, he almost didn’t fit through the door. His hair was long and streaked with grey, but from looking at the way it fell, Harry expected it to be soft to touch. There was a long scar down one side of his face and even though it cut through his right eyebrow and down to his stubble covered chin, it didn’t detract from his looks at all. It only enhanced the man’s rugged good looks. He wore only a jacket over his bare chest, open to show he was heavily muscled. His jeans were molded tightly around his powerful legs, and Harry suddenly found himself wondering what the man’s arse looked like. Jerking at that train of thought Harry watched the man move further into the room, werewolves filing in behind him to flank against the wall. Everyone in the room stopped to watch him as he lifted his head and scented the air. His brow furrowing as he did so. Harry wasn’t entirely sure why he was doing it, he was acting on some base instinct, but he stepped out from behind his safety and into eyeline of the werewolf. Fenrir’s face snapped towards him and Harry watched his nostrils flare before he met his eyes. Pale jade eyes stared at him in wonder and Harry felt his magic surging in his veins, pulling at him, tugging him in the direction of the werewolf. Harry took a step forward and his body sang, his eyes went wide as he realised what was happening. What he had found. The fact that it was Fenrir Greyback, someone so infamous, almost made him laugh. Their public images couldn’t be more flipped, but Harry knew there had to be more to other man than that. He knew there was more to himself than that. There had to be otherwise, there was no way his magic would be reacting the way it was. With that thought in his mind, he started to close the distance between them. Only vaguely hearing the shouts of his friends and loved ones telling him to stop. He did eventually come to a halt, standing so close to the taller man that he had to crane his neck back to maintain eye contact. 

Fenrir’s lips were parted slightly as he drank in the sight of Harry, he had smelt him as soon as he entered the room. His mate. He’d given up hope a long time ago that he would ever find his true mate. That he must have been a freak of nature to not have been able to sniff them out. It was part of the reason why he travelled so frequently. Always making new contacts and meeting new people in the vain hope that one day, one of them would be it, would be his. He’d grown used to that life and after giving up on his mate he had continued to roam. He had learned many things over the years, something that had stuck with him was something he had learned from an elderly Chinese man. Fear was a powerful force when it came to protecting those you cared about. He didn’t rule with fear, his pack knew the real him. But his reputation was carefully crafted and that had helped him grow the power base that he now led. The reason he had sided with Voldemort in the war was because he had lost faith in wizarding Britain, he didn’t believe they would change on their own. They needed incentive, something to drive them into change, fear was a good incentive. He wondered now though, how that would affect his mate. Would his mate reject him before he had a chance to show him what he had built? Before he could tell him how Fenrir could give him anything he desired? Fenrir’s mind was working in overdrive, a million thoughts running through his head about all the things he and his mate could achieve together. The loudest thought though, ‘Lycaon, he’s beautiful.’

He could see the considering look in those emerald green eyes, Harry’s green was so much darker than his own. He watched as the teen took a step forward, saw recognition and understanding flash across his face. Watched as that was chased by relief and then a determined look settled over him. Fenrir didn’t dare move as his mate started moving forward again, didn’t so much as breathe until he was standing right in front of him. Their chests so close together, Fenrir knew he only had to inhale and they would be touching. He looked down into those green, green eyes and almost drowned in the emotions he saw there. He felt as if he was being allowed a glimpse of all life’s answers just by staring at his mate. Then a word came softly, the confident tone belied by the insecurity showing in his eyes. “Mine.”

Fenrir’s shoulders relaxed at the word and he lifted a hand to cup Harry’s cheek, “as you are mine,” he returned just as softly, knowing only his wolves would overhear the words said between them. The smile he received in answer would have blinded the sun. 

He heard a shocked gasp from the other side of the room and he looked up to see a face he hadn’t seen in many moons. It seems that Remus Lupin had also overheard their conversation. He acted quickly then, before the other wolf could. He looked back down to Harry and slipped an arm around his waist, pulling him flush against his body. Relishing the way they fit together he said loudly, “you know what to do, kill them all.” 

He saw brief worry flare in Harry’s eyes before they widened in shocked realisation. His wolves had already left their posts and had moved to stand with the Death Eaters. Voldemort’s minions started to laugh as they turned back to the wizards who had come to fight to save Harry and his friends. 

That was the misunderstanding. The biggest mistake made was turning their backs on the wolves. The sound of tearing skin and breaking bones soon filled the small cavern and for the short time it took, Harry and Fenrir never looked away from one another. 

Harry stood there in the circle of Fenrir’s arms, feeling safer than he could ever remember. Knowing that with one sentence, this man had just turned the tide of the war, had turned his back on the Dark Lord, all for him. No-one had ever done anything remotely close to that just for him. He pressed upwards on the balls of his feet, a hand moving to steady himself against that firm chest. The cold he always felt, dissipating in the wake of the heat radiated by the werewolf. Slowly he pressed his lips gently against the older man’s. 

The chaste kiss ignited a fire under his skin unlike anything he had felt before, but before he could react in any way, Harry felt himself being held tighter. The arm around his waist pulling him closer and the hand in his hair tugging gently to give Fenrir better access to his mouth. He moaned lightly as the werewolf licked at the seam of his lips and he parted them allowing Fenrir’s hot tongue access. Harry felt something unlock inside him, like a key had been turned and the lights had come on at home. His magic rushed up to the surface of his skin, pulsing stronger than he had ever felt it before.

They were halted in their explorations by the crazed shout of Bellatrix Lestrange, the witch was fast and cursing up a storm. Luckily, Fenrir’s wolves were quick and they managed to dodge her spells. Some of them retaliating with their own. Suddenly, she conjured a silver spray from her wand that washed over the wolves, burning them as it touched. Though it didn’t kill them, it gave her enough reprieve to press the tattoo on her arm and laugh maniacally before turning to look at Harry. “He’s coming for you now, Potter,” she cackled as she raised her wand for another spell. The curse came flying towards them, faster than Harry had seen a spell travel before. He watched the bright light come towards him until his vision was abruptly filled with muscled chest. Harry realised what happened just seconds later, Fenrir had turned them so that he could take the spell instead of Harry. Harry gasped and looked up at him, expecting to see him in pain. But only confusion marred his features. There was a choked cry from behind Fenrir and Harry pushed him out the way to see Remus on his back, blood pouring from a wound in his shoulder. A scream of rage came from Harry’s godfather as he flew into battle against his cousin. “Remus!” Harry cried, dropping to his knees beside the man who was as much his godfather as Sirius was. His hands dropping to the wound to pressurise it. 

“Harry,” Remus wheezed, “you need to go, V-Voldemort.. Is coming.. You can’t stay here.” 

Harry shook his head, “and I can’t leave you like this either.” 

There was a sound of tearing fabric and then a large hand on Harry’s shoulder, “it’s going to be okay, Lapushka. He’s going to be fine.” Harry looked to see Fenrir squatting beside him, a swath of fabric in hand and a shirtless werewolf behind him. “Let go,” Fenrir murmured soothingly to Harry, Harry bit his lip but pulled away his blood-soaked hands. Fenrir moved in swiftly to tie the shirt around Remus’s shoulder. Knotting it tightly, he turned back to Harry, “he’ll be fine. The wound is not fatal. He needs a Healer, but there isn’t anything more we can do for him now. We need to get out of here before Voldemort comes.” 

Harry was about to argue when a shout of triumph came from the still ongoing duel between Bellatrix and Sirius. Harry stood and spun to see Sirius falling backwards through the large archway, the red light of a stunner fading around his body. Harry screamed for him when he did not reappear on the other side. Arms swept around his waist and hoisted him from the ground as Harry’s gut-wrenching cry was torn from his throat. “Get him out of here!” Remus shouted as the Ministry grew cold. Harry was dimly aware of being carried through the corridors and back towards the entrance. His throat was sore and his eyes stung, Remus was hurt, Sirius was gone, and he could hear his mum and dad screaming in his mind. 

He heard a growling voice snarl, “Dementors,” just as they stepped into the atrium. Harry looked up and blinked slowly, registering the cloaked black figures he tightened his hold on the jacket under his hands. “It’s okay, Moye Serdtse, I’ve got you, we’re getting out of here.”

The soothing rumble of the low voice calmed Harry, he wasn’t sure exactly what the wolf had called him, but he understood the intent. A warmth spread in his chest and he focused on that feeling. Letting the pain of Sirius, Remus and his parents fade to the background, he palmed his wand and muttered the incantation for the Patronus charm. Harry was surprised when the largest wolf he had ever seen poured out of his wand. “Should I be flattered?” Fenrir asked Harry softly, Harry blinked at him, “your direwolf looks suspiciously like me.” Fenrir explained and Harry reddened. “You’re quite a lot more powerful than you let on, aren’t you?” Fenrir murmured into Harry’s ear. Harry looked back to his new Patronus, the almost solid form fell to the floor with a silent howl and charged for the Dementors. They flew from the direwolf like bugs from a bright light and when Harry’s Patronus finally faded, the only thing left in black robes was Voldemort himself. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ah, Greyback. How good of you to bring Harry Potter to me, alive.” Harry winced slightly as the hold on him tightened reflexively. Greyback slowly lowered Harry to the floor, keeping an arm around his waist to steady him. 

“Go,” Fenrir rumbled softly to Harry, “I’ll distract him.” 

Harry glared up at the taller man, “I’m not going anywhere,” he countered, “if you think I’m going to run and lose someone else today, you wrong.” 

Fenrir growled and Harry just glared back unimpressed, “well, where is everyone?” Voldemort asked, “I can’t very well kill Harry Potter without an audience, people must know that I am far greater than he.” 

“They’re all dead,” Harry replied loudly. 

“All except for me, My Lord,” came the simpering voice of Bellatrix Lestrange. 

Harry snarled, more like the form his soulmate took than a human being and flung a cutting curse at the witch. It missed becoming fatal, but it did leave blood oozing from a long cut on her cheek. Her hand flew to her cheek and as she gazed at the red droplets on her fingers she said, “well, well, Potty wants to play.”

“No!” Voldemort called to her sharply, but Harry was already casting at her again. Harry knew, instinctively, that Fenrir was moving to duel with Voldemort, having heard the softly growled curse come from the larger man and the squeeze of his hand around Harry’s waist before he moved. He focused instead on the insane woman in front of him. The confident press of Fenrir’s hand against him had emboldened Harry. Cleared his mind of any doubt. Apparently, the wolf was confident enough in Harry’s abilities to take on the woman who had tried to down Remus, who had killed Sirius. That knowledge soaked into Harry’s very being that someone as strong as Fenrir, when push came to shove, didn’t think he needed protecting.

After just casting a few spells, Harry knew it wasn’t just his Patronus that had changed. His magic was different, unrestricted, stronger, faster. Dimly his mind replayed a memory of Hermione explaining that some soul bonds strengthened the bondee’s. But he couldn’t remember exactly why. He watched Bellatrix keenly and matched her movements and her spells, looking for his opening. He was aware of shouts as Fenrir’s pack and the members of the Order filled the room, Harry heard Hermione call out to him, but the battle he was engaged with was too delicate to see what was going on. Bellatrix didn’t seem to think so though and when her eyes slid to the side in shock, Harry shot a piercing hex through her heart. Her gaze instantly found Harry’s again and he watched as blood bubbled from her lips and from her breast. She fell with a wordless cry and Harry marched over to her, stepping on her wand, and checking her pulse to make sure she was no longer a threat. 

He stood and turned to see what had garnered her shock and his mouth fell open when he saw Sirius leaning between Luna and Neville. Harry’s heart leapt for joy but he was distracted from his Godfather by a sizzling sound. He watched as Voldemort and Fenrir battled. His heart in his throat as he watched the powerful display of magic. It seemed that people forgot to mention that Fenrir was a powerful wizard as well as an Alpha werewolf, as he cast spells Harry had never heard of towards the self-styled Dark Lord. 

Harry’s battle with Bellatrix paled in comparison to the duel that raged before him and Harry knew he wouldn’t be able to help magically. It wasn’t the strength of which they both cast which, whilst impressive, Harry felt his own would be a match. No, it was the spells themselves, the knowledge and the intricity as well as the cunning that was being displayed to those that were spread throughout the atrium. Harry had no idea what the spells did, he wouldn’t be able to counter them at all. He would only be a liability. 

He stood there, feeling helpless as the two older wizards became more and more focused. Voldemort’s monstrous face was twisted into an even uglier sneer. Fenrir was snarling as his wand moved without hesitation, switching effortlessly from spell to spell. Harry desperately wanted to help, the connection he felt to the werewolf already strong and his worry for the man was high. Harry knew he wouldn’t be able to bear it if the burly man died here today. Neither of them looked like they were slowing down and they were too evenly matched.  It would come down to knowledge in the end, Harry thought. Hermione’s favourite saying whenever Ron or Harry teased her for studying flashed into his mind. ‘Knowledge is power,’ “Power he knows not,” Harry murmured. His mind suddenly racing, connecting the phrase with the prophecy he instantly thought of the one thing that he would know better than Voldemort, and he had Uncle Vernon’s yearly suck-up weekends to thank for it. Looking around he spied some debris that was about the right size and quickly transfigured what he needed. He pulled his invisibility cloak from his pocket and donned it. He was lucky that everyone was so focused on the fight, they didn’t see him disappear. Checking the transfigured rock, he determined that all was in order. The key to transfiguration was knowing  _ exactly _ how something worked and thanks to endless hours of cleaning, Harry was very familiar with this object. He crept towards Voldemort waiting for the right moment to reveal himself. Fenrir had just turned the stone beneath his feet to liquid and Voldemort was stuck momentarily. Harry swung the weapon up, the butt coming to rest comfortably on his shoulder. His left hand moved back and the distinctive ‘chick chick’ sound echoed around the room. Voldemort’s red eyes went wide as he stared, cross-eyed, down the barrel of the pump action shotgun in Harry’s hands. Harry’s finger squeezed the trigger and the resulting sound was deafening. 

The gun jerked in his hands and against his shoulder but Harry held on as he watched the body of the man who had tried to kill him for so long, fall to the ground. He pulled the stock back for a second time and unloaded the gun into the Dark Lord’s chest. Letting the gun fall to his side, his breathing started to become heavier as he stared at the mess he had made of the man. He heard someone retching, it didn’t surprise him, he wanted to throw up too. There were dull bits of pink strewn all over the floor and the blood was pooling in a large puddle under what was left of the body.

Strong arms quickly gathered him up and turned him into a bare chest, the gun was tugged from his hand and thrown down with a clatter. Harry buried his face beneath the open leather jacket and breathed in deep lungfuls of the scent that was Fenrir. The previously unknown aroma calming him in a way he hadn’t known was possible. He committed the smell to memory, it was a little canine, but with hints of mint and something else that Harry couldn’t identify. 

“It’s over?” Came a disbelieving voice. Harry pulled away from Fenrir slightly, to look at Ginny. 

“Yeah, yeah it’s over,” he told her. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were finally back at Grimmauld Place. Thanks to Fenrir snapping at disbelieving Ministry officials, Harry had managed to avoid answering any questions. The last thing he wanted to do was rehash the night for a bunch of busybodies. Voldemort was dead. Along with many of his Death Eaters. Fenrir’s wolves had disappeared before anyone could identify them and he and Harry had yet to let go of each other. The only thing stopping people from protesting against the wolf was the fact that Harry was clinging to him just as tightly. A Healer had been summoned and they had all been seen to. Fenrir insisting on casting the charms on Harry himself. Once they had been given the all clear, Sirius insisted everyone come back to Grimmauld for the night. He said he didn’t want Harry to go back to school for a while, that he needed rest. That they all did. Fenrir had whispered in Harry’s ear then, “I like the way your godfather thinks. I wouldn’t be able to come with you to Hogwarts.” Harry had tightened his grip on the Fenrir’s arm then and the werewolf chuckled just soft enough for Harry to hear, “Oh don’t worry, Moya Lyubov, I will not be leaving your side anytime soon.” Harry relaxed after that declaration and led Fenrir to the floos. Those that had fought with him following after them. Harry knowing that no-one there could reveal the secret to Fenrir, shared the floo with him, stumbling as they exited into the dark lounge at Grimmauld Place, Harry caught a glimpse of a long white beard just as they spun into the green flames. 

Molly Weasley was suddenly hurrying into the room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She screamed at the sight of the tall werewolf and woke the portrait of Sirius’s mother. Harry tried to calm her down, but she grabbed his arm and tried to wrench him away from the now growling Alpha. This was the scene that the others flooed into. Every arriving person just adding to the noise and making it worse. Finally, Harry’d had enough, his wand snapped into his hand and he cast a shield in front of him and Fenrir, separating them from everyone. Fenrir stepped up behind him, pressing into his back, giving him strength. “ENOUGH!” He roared. Everyone was stunned into silence as they looked at him. “Just, enough. Okay?” Harry said, his voice softening, “No-one here is in danger. Voldemort is dead. Can’t we all just be happy about that and go to bed?” 

“But Harry!” Molly began again her eyes on Fenrir still.

“NO!” Harry said sharply, “Just no, Mrs Weasley, Fenrir is staying and that’s that.”

Harry saw Remus nudge Sirius out of the corner of his eye and the other werewolf whispered something quickly to Harry’s godfather. Harry looked at the two of them and Sirius’s eyes went wide, he met Harry’s gaze and saw the pleading expression there. He swallowed heavily and nodded, “Harry’s right, Molly, Greyback is our guest. If you don’t like it, well, you do have a house of your own to go to.”

Fenrir nodded at Sirius and Remus and then tugged Harry towards the door, wanting Harry out of the stressful room. Harry let his shield fall and allowed himself to be led away, a small grateful smile for his godfathers as he passed them. 

The door shut behind them and they were left standing in the tight hallway. “Your room?” asked Fenrir.

“Erm, this way,” Harry said, leading the Alpha up the stairs, suddenly a lot more nervous, “I, um, usually share with Ron..” 

“Not anymore,” came the low growl from behind him. 

“No, not anymore,” agreed Harry. They climbed the rest of the stairs in silence and Harry opened the door to his room. Standing to the side to let in the larger man. Fenrir looked even bigger in this small space and Harry quickly shut the door, leaning back on it as he tried to figure out what to do next. 

He watched as Fenrir looked around the small room, watched as he scented the slightly stale air. The Alpha then quickly banished the occupant of the portrait and set strong, silent wards in place before he sat down on the bed Harry usually slept in. He looked at Harry, “come sit, Lapushka, no need to be shy now.” 

Harry automatically scowled at the shy comment and pushed himself off the door and came to stand in front of the other man. “I don’t know what that means,” he said in reply as big hands came to settle on his waist. 

“It’s Russian,” Fenrir replied and Harry was able to detect the faint accent in his voice now that it had been pointed out to him. “It means darlin’ or little paw.” 

“Oh, er,” Harry blushed and cleared his throat, “and the others?” 

Fenrir cocked his head to the side, a smirk drawing across his lips, “my heart and my love. After all, that’s what you are, yes?” 

Harry reddened further but kept his gaze locked with the wolf’s. “As you are mine?” he questioned, repeating Fenrir’s own words back to him. 

“Now and until the moon ceases to rise,” Fenrir replied, a hand slipping up to cradle Harry’s cheek, pulling his face closer for a kiss. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> *bounces up and down* so? what did you think?
> 
> Also: don't forget to find me on facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ariel.sakura.100 for update times, snippets and even just a chat! :D


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